Bilarix ending
by larirari
Summary: The story of the final hours of my draenei paladin, Bilarix and her memories prompted by the events unfolding in the tale.


Recommended listening-  watch?v=lbp8GaALXp8 (written while listening)

The plans had to be laid to rest, for years they plagued her thoughts, her heart. They weighed heavily upon her, a yolk she could no longer burden. Avoiding her duties she swore to complete was to come to an end and she would now face those who suffered even more so than she.

The black and red, heavily plate clad draenei, the eternal and ancient being, made her way, lightly limping to the end of the road, the battle site was near and the oppression of lost spirits, both draenei and orc alike, continuing to wander aimlessly was incredibly thick, nearly like a fog. She needed nothing to see them. She merely needed to feel their presence.

There were dozens upon dozens and perhaps even hundreds of spirits in this barren and tainted wasteland that once was a thriving valley before the Burning Legion came and corrupted the orcs. The Temple of Karabor was close to where she was, but that was not to be her final destination.

Her armor mattered not here, not any longer. She was well beyond the need to wear the heavy plate, her shield and sword weighed her down and she shed them. The Legion was not present in this place, no demonic harm would befall her now.

There was no light except the shining light's of her eyes and even then, they were slowly growing dim. She peered about the flat land and pressed forward. She could hear the hushed whispers of those she passed, those unfamiliar to her, if she had time they'd received their resting.

The howling and yelling of those who had fallen were most prevalent and even the sounds of apparitions fighting against each other, still to this day could be heard in the near distance. the orcs still drunk from the Blood of Mannoroth even in their spiritual forms fought tooth and nail with the draenei, who now, could not die. Their battle would be an eternal one, never ceasing and there would never be a victor.

She limped through the sea of beings, most of them oblivious to her presence, seeming content with merely wandering or too far gone to realize they were not fully dead and resting.

Finally after nearly hundreds of steps, a familiar voice called out to her, it was chilly and ethereal, plagued by death and suffering, "Bilarix... You finally have come." A haze of a priest would be seen by her, speaking softly, "Have you come to bring me rest?"

The Maven looked at the blighted, hazy figure, frowning, "Yes, I am sorry that I have taken so long. The Naaru bring you the blessing of resting. I am sorry that I could not have come sooner... on that day." She frowned deeply and extended a hand, a blessing of the Naaru left her and moved in a light ray toward the spirit. The priest let out a sigh of relief as it was finally released from wandering. The thickness in the air was only a twinge lighter now.

Time after time for the next hour, Bilarix sent the spirits to rest, all were ready to be relieved from their 'curses' and were grateful they were finally removed from the place they were trapped in. The former Exarch, herself was in need of rest, physical rest. She was gifting even what the Naaru had given to her specifically and she was drained much more quickly than she had anticipated.

She lowered herself down to sit on the flat earth, feeling the taint even through her plate on the soil. She frowned deeply as she looked at the ground, "It will never return to as it was...nothing will." She ran a plated hand through the stiff dirt, breaking it up with steel fingertips. Her eyes wandered up from where her hand moved to the horizon and ocean of wandering souls. It was endless but once she had her short rest, she would continue onward. There were several she had to find specifically.

The empty field was immensely symbolic to how the Maven felt for a good portion of her life, a large black void and her being within it. Physically now, she felt she was where she was meant to be and her final rest would be sooner than later.

An apparition approached her, "Bilarix, you must be tired, but please, give me rest, too." She looked up to the being and gave a nod, "I will, soon. But I need to rest." She spoke calmly in reply. This, to the spirit was not acceptable. The apparition bellowed, "No! I will force your hand if I must. I cannot wait any longer!" Forced upon her, an intense heaviness in her heart, slowly squeezing at the already weakening muscle. If Bilarix waited to do anything it would eventually choke the life from her, but it was too soon. A plated hand moved up to attempt to clutch her chest, gasping and coughing and struggling to keep herself alive, her other hand reached up and sent another portion of the Blessing onto the apparition.

Her muscle in her chest was immensely lighter, the grip was gone and her beating heart was once again returning to normal, though still, a fast pace as she had to catch her breath. "I still had some Blessing... how selfish of me to not give it you... " Even if it was the impatience of the spirit to demand to be aided at that moment, she was there for all of them. She could keep going even though she was greatly toiled with exhaustion. Her body could not move another inch and her hand fell from her chest to her lap and joined the other one.

She couldn't sleep, not here, not yet. She simply sat and sobbed, weeping away her tiredness. Life for the draenei had drained her the last thousand of years. She lost her home, family and love and subsequent loves. Any new lands her people came to were ripped from them by the Legion and nothing ever lasted. The Legion deceived their new found friends, the orcs with vile magic and promises of strength and power. She watched her people, friends and family be slaughtered without mercy by demons and blood-crazed orcs alike. How she survived was purely an act of the Naaru's Blessing upon her.

Eventually, she laid flat on her back, glowing eyes staring blankly at the stars, tears continuing to spill from their corners. Her mind was flooded with memories. She wished they'd leave her mind with each salty tear that left her eyes, but unfortunately for the Maven, that was just not so.

"Shhh, they will all pass if we be quiet enough." Her own voice spoke in a hushed tone to the four small draenei children that were seated around and on her lap. Another few crowded around her, gripping onto her cloak, her armor, whatever they could grasp. She stole a look to the other female draenei near her and gave a nod. The fair skinned female gave a nod in reply, she herself also surrounded. "Shut your eyes, little ones." The female cooed. Obediently, the children all closed their glowing eyes.

The gravelly and sniffing breath of the fel-hounds could be heard in their proximity, just outside the wall they were within. Through the slats that could not be closed, Bilarix peered out at the trio of demon-dogs, waiting to be found. Their clawed feet trod nearby but never yet stopped to inspect any further. Behind them, fel-guards lumbered with mighty swords and axes, feet meeting the stone floor hard, hard enough to rumble the ground they walked upon. A light whimpering cry could be heard coming from one of the children the Maven held. She gave the small back a gentle rub, knowing what was to come.

The battle raged on outside. It was not so much a battle but the sounds of their own loved ones, friends, lovers, family being slaughtered, the sacrifice they all willingly made for their own people.

She rolled over to her side, plate creaking under her weight and against the tainted earth as she tried to pass the memory from her mind. She didn't care her horn was against the soil, slowly digging in as she tried to find her rest.

Her glowing eyes shut and she took in a deep breath. "Look where we are! It reminds me so much of Argus!" The scent of fresh air, fresh grass, and life hit her olfactory. She let out her breath as she looked upon the unbroken lands of Nagrand, high up on the balcony of her home in Telaar.

A large arm slipped about her, "Yes. Yes, it does seem to be quite similar. Even if Oshu'gun is deep within the ground, it seems fitting here. I think we may have finally found peace here." She felt the press of lips to her temple before the male draenei sauntered off, hooves loudly and earnestly trod the floor.

She turned to look and watch her mate walk off, returning to things in their home, only to find it was her own arms around him next, his face unrecognizable by cuts and blood. She knew it was him and her tears falling upon the bloodied visage aided in diluting the liquid life. She herself was hardly in one piece, her horn nearly severed and the pain coursing through her body was intense and nearly unbearable. She watched as he choked out his last few breaths and join the other dead here in this very plagued Valley.

She returned to her back, staring once more at the stars. He was to be next, the next one she had to find. A fingertip found its way to her horn and where it met her skull, trailing over the scar. She let out a sorrowful sigh as her hand returned to rest on her stomach.

The axe had turned at the very last moment, the handle too bloodied for the orc to grip it properly as she swung downward from a high stance onto the head of Bilarix. The crack could be heard as skin was severed and the metal nearly embedded into her skull there. The Maven was able to summon enough strength to push the hulking female orc away from her though the blood pouring from the fresh wound flowed down into her eyes, blotting out her vision. For a time, she saw the same as the orcs did. Blood red everywhere. The orc snarled and grasped her axe once more, trying to keep a stronger grip. Bila did what she could to gain her stability and flee but the hefty blade made contact once more with her body. A sharp pain on the side of her neck. Her tendril lay at her hooves and she fell to the ground, gulping and gasping for breath. Her throat had not been entirely severed but the force of the blow would knock out any air from her lungs and she'd struggle to regain her breathing. She felt the figure looming over her, weapon high above her head ready to end the life of the draenei. She shut her eyes, waiting death when she heard heavy footsteps and the yelp of the female as she was knocked away. She heard the gruff voice of a male orc, the familiar Frostwolf shout at her to go. She did not hesitate to flee, though that was the last time she'd hear the voice.

She sat up and once again looked at the haze. Her eyes now burned from crying but she had enough rest. She had to continue onward. She would hardly make it a step before an apparition would approach her. Without any hesitation, she'd extend the Blessing upon them, granting them the rest they yearned for. She'd only make it fifteen steps before her body collapsed underneath her and she simply laid, face down on the ground. Her heaving breath blew dust away from her lips and nose.

She let out another breath, more dust blew and she followed the path of the dust, looking beyond it to the sight of the Dark Portal. There was nothing left for her on the crumbling, destroyed planet. She heard of where her people had landed, on the other side of this gateway. She took a step forward and found herself on the other side. The landscape was nearly identical, yet the sky looked foreign and unfamiliar. "Azeroth..." she murmured to herself. "It is a wasteland, also..." From what she could see, the taint was minimal and the planet was not crumbling. She took several steps, finding herself soon in Stormwind. Humans were peculiar to her as were the other races she came across. She found very few of her own people, as to be expected. Their language was difficult for her tongue to master and she only knew a little before she left Draenor.

She let out a cough as she had inhaled some tainted dust. It took most of her energy to push up and off the ground only to end up on her side again. There was nothing to lay on here, nothing to prop herself up against. She let out a sharp exhale from her nose, letting any dust she took in leave her. Eventually, she rolled to her back and rested there, finally finding sleep, even if only brief.

She was surrounded further by taint, of another kind. The familiar in of Darkshire had an eerie glow as she entered it. She had dropped off some supplies with a local woman who tended to wounded and entered the inn to have something to drink and take a seat. She met a man while she sat, he knew her deeds in the land and asked her if she would go to an old man and find a tome and deliver it to him. Of course, she nodded and accepted the task. She always was a dutiful one. The exchange was seen by a nearby worgen mage, seated nearby as well, enjoying some tea. "I will go with you, as I have business as well in Raven Hill." The two wasted little time and she collected her few things and left the inn with the worgen and met the blacksmith outside his shop, her steed freshly tacked and cart attached. Supplies were to be delivered to the broken city outside the graveyard. They were much needed and Bilarix was more than happy to aid. She was finally doing something of good for those who needed it. A purpose.

A purpose. It had been what she desired in her life. A non-fleeting purpose. Something to be dedicated to, whether it be a cause or a solitary being. She pursed her lips as she shut her eyes again.

They sauntered up to Raven hill, strangely occupied by a few humans and worgen. Bilarix looked around for the old man they were instructed to find. Death was very much alive in this place, it never truly rested. Even the buildings waned with death, doing their very best to hold the structure they were given. Still, they were decrepit and nearly worthless. However, one housed the elderly male she sought. He spoke calmly to her, telling her of a tome in the graveyard that he needed. "It is enchanted with a ward, speak the incantation into the tome to release it from where it rests." He spoke the words, by now the mage had found the two and heard the incantation.

"If only I had learned the language faster... I would have not messed up..." She scolded herself silently as she shifted in her armor. The ground gave her no comfort.

The words hardly left her mouth and the tome shut violently and the ground near the statue where it lay began to grow dark and chilled. While they were in the graveyard among the resting dead, the cold air of the grave was becoming fast apparent. A skeletal hand emerged from the earth, bits of decaying flesh hanging off it as it raised straight up and then bent at the elbow, hand grasping at the earth as it hoisted whatever was to follow out of the ground. A ghoul emerged, vile and rotting. A blast of fire blew past Bilarix and incinerated the monstrosity. It fell to the ground. A relieved breath left her body until she watched the fallen being rise once more, only to be joined by another, identical to it. "Oh no..." She said, nearly in unison to the mage.

One by one, ghouls fell only to be raised once more and joined with another at their side. The two desperately worked together to defeat the army but were overpowered and surrounded. Both had sustained injury, Bila did what she could to keep the ghouls from attacking the less armored mage, swinging her mace and shield, knocking jaws from them and bones, to no avail. Their deaths were imminent.

She opened her eyes, looking about the haze and blackness ahead of her, hardly able to see. "This... " Blackness shrouded the pair as the ghouls were upon them. Not a single thing could be viewed only heard. Gnawing maws, trundling steps, flesh falling off bones and the scent of bile and rot was ever-present. From the darkness a chill unlike the one from the grave they felt was in their midst and the violent shrieking of ghouls being severed and torn apart filled the night air. Dead silence.

There she was, a nearly angelic figure in the air, speaking to Bilarix and the mage, "Seek out the one called Karnstein." The tome was left on the ground, the ward gone and it was picked up by the mage, nothing unusual about the book at all. They returned to where they had found the man, the building empty.

"My short lived purpose, serving the Mistress, our Matron. She too, was so much like me, with and without a purpose." She sighed as she rolled her shoulder, trying to get comfortable. She would find none. Heaving another deep sigh, she attempted to sleep again, shutting her weary eyes.

She awoke, murmuring beside the sleeping kaldorei, hair strewn about. She reached forward and brushed it from his aged face. "You will be there to see me off, yes?" She spoke to him in her broken Common. He stirred, opening his eyes to look at her, "Yes, of course. I will be there." She felt her darkened lips spread across her face, revealing teeth and fangs, forming a smile. "Good. I will miss you while I am away and I will write to you when I am able." She rolled over to climb out of their bed and planted her hooves on the floor and looked forward to the barren dock.

Her order was already beginning to arrive to board their vessel, ready to leave for Theramore. The harbor was full of ships, big and small. All sails ready for the voyage across the sea. There was no one coming off the ship she recognized that had come from Darnassus, the Bravery had already docked and all but the crew remained on board. Waiting could not last and she had to board her own vessel and set sail and be gone the next few months.

Her scribbled writing flooded the paper before she stuffed it into the enveloped addressed to Seliris Bladepaw. The courier made his rounds and passed her once more, stopping at her tent to pick up the letter he knew she would have. "Here for the pick up of mail and sorry, Lady Bilarix, nothing for you today." There never was any letters, none for her, anyway. The paper slipped her fingers and moved into the hand of the male's. She watched him walk off, moving quickly to the next tent and then to another until he faded from sight.

Plate creaked as her body shifted, her leg never did bend right when she laid down anymore and caused her discomfort. Her shoulder plate was slowly sinking into the soil, providing a little more of a flat surface for her to rest on. She squinted her eyes, forcing them shut instead of opening them, there wasn't anything to view but blackness.

A loud snap and whinny of a steed and the sight of the heavy beast, clad in armor atop her. The troll sat atop her dying companion ready to slash her with his dagger. He raised the blade and soon fell from the horse, forward and away from her. A bullet or an arrow sent him to join the Spirits he likely followed. She pulled herself free from the weight of the animal, a wailing cry filled the air as she could feel her bones scraping against the inside of her mangled leg plate. She had to stand, the cries of those fighting nearby were greater than her own needs and she rose, gritting her teeth, forcing herself to use both of her legs. Blood trickled from her boot, spilling onto the red clay soil, vanishing from sight from the heat of the day. Tears were shed with each heal she sent out, waves of strength pouring from the injured female, renewing life to those who fought with her against the savage Horde army.

By the end of it all, the trek back to Theramore from Southern Durotar was a numb one. At no point in her life was she evermore grateful for the lack of feeling. Her blood finally had clotted but the sound of scraping bone against plate was still prevalent. She would find no rest, as she never had once she arrived. She would be mended last, as she wished it. Always someone else to be first Her needs were never a priority, "Please, take care of them first. I will wait." She told the medic, pain riddled over her face and seeped into her words. Eventually, no one else could be helped but her. The boot removed carefully and the medic removing it had to turn away quickly to vomit. Large sections of her bone pierced her flesh, bruises covered her already dark and bloodied skin. "Do not heal it entirely, I wish to remember this. I cannot allow my mind to be elsewhere during such important endeafvor."

"How careless of me to think of myself and what I missed... I wonder how many died because of my thoughts..." She murmured, failing to sleep. She stared up at the blackened sky once more, hardly able to see even the twinkle of a faint star. Her eyes drifted to shut for one last time, rest finally greeting her for a few short hours, but that would be enough to recharge the ancient being.

She pushed herself from the ground, licking her dried lips. Now, she thirsted and wished for water, but there would be none. She left the skin behind and traveled as lightly as she could. What she would give for a drink, even a few droplets of water. Even if she found water, it wouldn't be drinkable. She licked her lips again, imagining the intensely sweet taste of nectar coating her lips and tongue.

She could almost really taste her favorite drink, sweet nectar and even a little bit of sugar on the side to add to her mug. A far cry from the dryness she had on her lips, even remnants of Fel-tainted dust could be licked off. She swallowed hard as she wandered about, coming across more beings, all in dire need of eternal rest. She passed on the Blessing of the Naaru to them as she had for all the previous ones. They dissipated into the air, bringing just a little more serenity to the land.

It wouldn't take long before one of the fighting beings stopped her, still being attacked by the orc. He disregarded the spiritual assault that did little to his apparition, "Bila! Help me!" His voice rang in her heart and mind, recognizing it right away, "I watched you die. But you still linger here? I am so sorry... Yes, let me help you..." She extended her hand once more to the male, her former mate and was about to send the Blessing to him when she was interrupted. The apparition of the orc he fought with silenced her. White heat rushed through her body as the Blessing was returned to her. While it was not entirely pleasant it re-energized her enough to realize what happened and for her to try once more to send the rest to her former love. "I will join you soon..." She called out to him as she felt the Naaru's grace leave her and finally fall upon the apparition. The orc's spirit swung too late but now that the target of his rage and anger, even in the ethereal realm was gone, he had nothing.

It felt like whips and chains on her heart, her every bit of soul and being as the orc attacked her. Armor would do nothing to help her now. She struggled to keep her mind and thoughts on what as going on instead of joining her mate as she very much so desired to do. There were so many more spirits ahead of her before her task could be considered complete enough. While she did not wish to aid the orc in bringing him rest, he too, deserved it. The Blessing left her once more, sending the assaulting apparition into the void, bringing it rest and peace.

She collapsed on the ground from exhaustion, plate clanking and whining as it supported her weight and felt the force of gravity upon it. The same sound it made when taking a blow from a shield, mace or sword. Tears escaped her eyes, even if she had no idea where the liquid came from to produce them. Her dried lips were once again, barely wet by her tongue. She smacked her lips, greatly desiring for a drink or something liquid.

She tilted her head back, staring up once again to the sky, it was slowly drawing light, a false sense of hope for the Maven. She knew there was no light to be found in these lands. Her eyes shut, hoping for another bout of rest.

She opened her lips extending her jaw as the juicy globe was slowly lowered into her awaiting mouth. The elf watched her from across the table as he was being shown how to properly eat the glimmering orb. A pop once she closed her mouth was all that was needed to indicate the liquid surged about her tongue and was soon swallowed. She smiled as she looked at him, "Now, you try, yes? It is good. Perfectly delicious. You will see." Her smile was confident as she was in his presence. The kaldorei lifted one of the gelatinous orbs to his mouth, tilting his head back as she did and consumed it in one bite. While he didn't look quite as impressed by the taste as she had, she seemed ecstatic by his bravery in trying something new. "I hope you like! If you do not, I will eat your portion. Ze egg of Dreadfang Widow are such treat!" She spoke to him in broken Common, a pained emotion could be heard in her voice. Her time was limited but she was glad for the company.

They stood on the bridge overlooking, about to cross over into the Valley from Terokkar. "I am glad you hafve come with me. You are ley-line to me in this life." He failed to understand the comparison to something of the Arcane, but perhaps it was her way of expressing his importance to her and not simply to her livelihood. It was her only way to speak her feelings without directly stating them, she knew he could not accept what she had to say, something hindered it.

From there, the tension of the remaining Legion was thick and could be tasted in the air. Life could not flourish in this place, even the weeds were heavily tainted and incredibly toxic. She knew the lands were a burden upon the druid and he would not travel far with her. She wouldn't allow it. Wildhammer Stronghold was where they parted. She sent him back with the promise of return, a friend was always a nice thing to have when one came home from a long voyage, but she couldn't bring him to this place. He needed to be around life, not death. Aside from the Maven, there was nothing for him here and he had to go. This was her duty and her charge. She alone could fulfill it.

The ribbons of Fel-tainted sky flashed overhead, giving her something to focus on as she lay on her back, exhaustion taking over her. So much was left to do, but strength was diminishing at an astounding rate. She was hungry and most of all thirsty. Her tears finally ceased as she stared upward. She felt the presence of dozens of apparitions beginning to flock to her location, their voices chiming in a horrifying melody. There were far too many for her to bring peace to. As the other had not wanting to be patient, she knew these un-rested spirits would give her very little time to work in their favor.

She felt the strangulation of her heart and organs, she was too tired to try to plead with them to wait. She simply stared upward, glowing eyes slowly dimming out and only a few tears beaded at the corners of her eyes. She took several gulps of the dusty, tainted air and let out a prayer, "Naaru, help me, let me rest." She stared into a fresh, bright light, rest was soon to come.


End file.
